


Shaded Perspective

by EtherealUmbrella



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Dirk being an asshole, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Redemption, Slow Burn, john doesnt ignore dirks bullshit narration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-03-09 12:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18917308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtherealUmbrella/pseuds/EtherealUmbrella
Summary: It was getting kind of hard to ignore the overbearing, arrogant narration running rampant inside John's head. It obviously wasn't him thinking these things. And considering the ridiculously long philosophical tangents, the coldness layered beneath all of those words, and the faint aftertaste of orange citrus on the roof on John's mouth, he could only think of one person this could be. Of course it was Dirk. But if that was the case, what the hell was Dirk doing in his consciousness?(John stops to confront Dirk's narration, consequently throwing Dirk's entire plan out of the window and forcing him to reexamine his actions in the process.)





	1. An Epiphany

You scrunch up your nerdy face and furrow an eyebrow. It seems you aren’t enjoying this train of thought. 

JOHN: why am i even THINKING about this bullshit??

Sorry dude. That’s what’s on my mind right now. Although, I wonder whether or not there really is any distinction between your thoughts and mine. In both of the retcons you’ve made , your friends, while carrying minor differences, have acted and talked in relatively the same manner. They believed that their thoughts only existed in their minds, and that they only thought what “they would think”. Yet, they thought in the same way hundreds of thousands of other iterations of themselves thought. Their thoughts weren’t really their own. And if that’s the truth for your friends, what makes your thoughts so different? So special? When you get right down to it, your thoughts mean nothing. Your definition of self, of choice, is all but a fabrication in the collective consciousness of existence, for if individuality can be coalesced into the one simple, measly letter that is “I”, something so ironically impersonal, then how can the self be as significant as you make it out to be? 

JOHN: wait.

JOHN: holy shit, Dirk?

You have no idea why you thought that just now. Maybe it’s the whole identity spiel you just went on. You might have gotten a bit carried away with that one. It’s probably that you’re just delirious from that huge fucking wound in the middle of your abdomen. 

JOHN: oh… yea…

You look down and see that painfully familiar glint of gold. You kind of forgot about that. Staring at it, you float there in space for a few minutes, just staring down at the tooth in your stomach like a huge dumbass. When you think that though, you blink a few times and whip your head back up as your expression morphs into mild anger. Whoops.

JOHN: hey, i just remembered that i’m dying, can you not be a dick about it?

At this point you really don’t know who you’re talking to. There’s no one out here. You’re wandering through the middle of a shattered reality, after all. You might just be losing it. 

JOHN: Dirk, come on.

JOHN: i know it’s you.

JOHN: i mean i know we don’t really talk that much, but no one else talks like that.

JOHN: so what are you doing, why are you just ignoring me?

JOHN: actually wait how are you like… here right now?

JOHN: what is going on?

After you’re done asking what is, quite frankly, a fucking annoying amount of questions to no one but yourself, you sit and wait for an answer. Frustratingly, none make themselves known. You shove your arms down either side of your torso and stomp your foot as you become more upset, but because you're just floating in the middle of the void your foot doesn't connect with anything and you lose your balance like the clumsy fool you are. Your face gets even tighter with the addition of another insult, but just as you’re about to shout in exasperation, you start coughing. The poison running through your veins is beginning to take effect. You curl your hands into fists, your blood crusted nails digging through your skin. 

JOHN: what—

Your coughing gets even worse. That right there is some fast working poison. Looks like you have some pretty shitty luck there. 

JOHN: are you.

JOHN: are you trying to fucking kill me?

So what if I am, John? Does it really matter in the grand scheme of things? Not enough for me to keep pretending that I'm not here, I suppose. You did your job, did just what Rose asked you to, and so you’re done. Your purpose is served. And now, the narrative demands that you die. I’m sorry, but your death is imperative to the persistence of canon—

JOHN: oh my fucking god!

JOHN: i’m so sick of hearing about canon!

JOHN: i left my friends and family only to feel like an outsider among teenage versions of them, got stuck inside of that fucking house thing for who knows how long, and THEN had to fight Lord English, who i didn’t really care about until about a day ago, with all my friends.

JOHN: and then i had to watch them fucking die! again!

JOHN: all for the BULLSHIT that is canon!

JOHN: if i had to live through that absolute fucking garbage then you know what?

JOHN: relevancy isn’t WORTH IT, Dirk.

JOHN: and i don’t exactly know what the hell you’re talking about, but i can tell that it isn’t worth all of THIS!

You’re really mad about this, huh? Listen man, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re around five minutes away from kicking the bucket. You were supposed to meet up with Meenah and Terezi first 

JOHN: WHAT?

But since you had to go ahead and be aware I’ll have to figure something else out. 

JOHN: aaaAAARRRGGGHHHH

Dude seriously chill o— hold on where’d he go. God I hate that retcon power.

John if you’re going where I think you’re going you should really rethi—

                                                            Jfajsdfh

         Dgufisdafu 

                                        f 

                                                                                                  dfjdfhhh 

                                                                                                                                                                   Skdfahjfjkjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj 

JOHN: THAT’S WHAT YOU GET, YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING ASSHOLE!

JOHN: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

… 

JOHN: …

Ow. 

Huh. That actually hurt. Somebody should give you a gold star for effort. But even so, that punch isn’t actually going to do much in the long run. You’ve put a dent in the story, but we’ll be getting back on track shortly. For now, let’s acquaint ourselves with this new situation, shall we? 

You’re breathing pretty heavily, and I’m sprawled out on the floor. Oh, you’re glaring at me now, fed up with the continued narration. How quaint. You look like you’re about to say something, so I’ll do you a favor and let you have the floor. 

JOHN: wow, i don’t think i’ve been that mad since i punched that caliborn guy.

JOHN: or wait should i call him Lord English? young Lord English?

JOHN: either way, congrats Dirk. you’ve managed to make me as mad as the literal embodiment of fucking evil!

That’s kind of the point, Egbert. Going for the whole evil mastermind arc, you know? Joining the bad guys sort of deal, but instead it’s just me, myself, and I. Say, have you ever watched Naruto? It’s like that. 

JOHN: you cannot seriously be comparing yourself to Sasuke right now.

I shrug, standing up and grabbing my katana off the workshop table. Retconning here and punching me seemed to use up the last of your effort, and your anger too. Your voice almost sounds like an echo of what it used to be. Casually, I lift the blade towards your face and stare you down. Come on John, you can’t beat me, especially not while you’re this bad. Seriously, you look like shit. I didn’t think it would be this much worse in person, actually. You try to move, do anything, but I can’t let you do that, now can I, John? You’re glued to the spot, by fear or, far more likely because I just fucking told you, by force. The wind starts whipping around the room as I move closer to you. I push you down on the floor, and you go tumbling like a ragdoll. I hover the blade over your body, but on second thought, is there anything you’d like to say beforehand, John? 

JOHN: i…

JOHN: god this sucks.

JOHN: i don’t really have anything cool or hopeful like i wish i did.

JOHN: i thought i’d have a bit more time to think of something.

JOHN: i guess… um…

JOHN: i don’t know what i did to make you hate me so much? and you certainly aren’t doing much to make me feel bad about decking you.

JOHN: when i retconned back, i saw you and Dave talking on that rooftop, and well, i guess you would know that already.

Nice job piecing that one together. 

JOHN: sigh

JOHN: even as i’m dying i’m plagued by that condescending Strider sarcasm, huh?

JOHN: anyways

JOHN: what were you guys talking about?

It.

 

 

 

 

It doesn’t matter. 

JOHN: okay well

JOHN: (it doesn’t seem like that to me but)

I can still hear you dipshit. I would still hear you even if you didn’t say it out loud. What part of omniscience don't you get? 

JOHN: ...but i’m not gonna pry, and i’m not gonna acknowledge that thing you just said because i don’t care.

JOHN: ...

JOHN: well actually i am gonna acknowledge it because i think that might be where the whole problem is?

JOHN: i don’t understand why you gained like, omnipotence? just out of the blue? or why you and rose have been obsessing over canonicity or whatever. but considering the shit i just went through i think i get it.

JOHN: i chose meat because i didn’t think there was really any other way out. i was the only one who could actually go out of all of us and help defeat Lord English.

JOHN: or at least, i thought i was the only one that could.

JOHN: but i didn’t do anything. nothing really feels… fixed. my powers didn’t change anything. i’m still dying. all the friends who got involved are still dead.

JOHN: sometimes you feel you’re doing good, but you really didn’t change a thing.

JOHN: i know that i’m rambling a bit here so let me try to get to what i think is my point.

JOHN: you aren’t special, Dirk.

JOHN: you’re saying that you’re doing this for canon, but really all the shit you’ve been spewing sounds really conceded?

JOHN: like you’re doing this more for yourself than for your friends.

JOHN: like you’re proving something?

JOHN: but get off of your damn high horse.

JOHN: seeing more doesn’t mean you make the right decisions the next time.

JOHN: and you’re still you! you still have that obnoxious, condescending way of phrasing things. it isn’t like you’ve become all of us because you can spy into our minds.

JOHN: you still don’t share all of our experiences or understand our true emotions, because at the end of the day, guess what, the sense of self is pretty important!

JOHN: or whatever the hell you said.

JOHN: so stop acting like taking away your friend’s free will is for the greater good and get some fucking perspective!

JOHN: and… i guess that’s all i got.

… 

… 

… 

JOHN: uh

Don’t judge me, asshole. I can sit here and think all I want, ok? I can sit here and think about your words all day if I wanted to, and nobody would stop me. Because I have control. Because I have the power here, you aren’t right, and I’m not… not… Oh. 

                   Oh god no.

 

 

                                                                  Oh no no no.

JOHN: dude what?

I seriously can’t believe I let myself be distracted by you long enough for her to find me. I need to fix this right now. 

JOHN: you never get freaked out by like anything, so what's the deal? why can’t you just tell me what’s happening—

I don’t have enough time to give you the full fucking rundown, or figure out a good enough narrative reason to make her leave. God damnit Egbert, why the fuck are you so annoying? Just another problem to fix because of you.

Shit, she’s here. 

JOHN: who’s “she”?

Well you're about to see, because there’s a large and sudden crash against my door. Then, what sounds like a car engine revving, followed by a steady, terrifying mechanical whir. The metal roar grinds into both your eardrums and mine. I think I’m going to step back a bit for this one, because I’m currently watching her cut the door in twain, wood chips flying everywhere, and suddenly a foot shoves itself through the entryway, sending door chunks careening through the air, and—

KANAYA: Dirk. Strider.

KANAYA: Where.

KANAYA: The FUCK.

KANAYA: Is My Wife?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody!!! This is actually my first ao3 fic and really my first fic ever, so please bear with me on any mistakes you might see here or there while I get the hang of this. With that out of the way, thank you so much for reading!! I'm actually super excited about this fic and where it's going, although I'm not sure just how long its gonna be (I'm thinking pretty long though). I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it, and if you wanna come talk to me about it you can find me @etherealumbrella on tumblr! Also, I'm gonna be adding a bunch more tags as we go, but if you see any that I should add right now feel free to let me know! I think that's everything so again thank you so much!! See ya hopefully soon for the next chapter.


	2. Chapter Two: Headlights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, just as a quick heads up I added some warnings and extra tags in light of the new chapter, so be sure to give those a once over before reading! Thanks and I hope you guys enjoy the new chapter!!

DIRK: Hello to you too, Kanaya. 

KANAYA: Dirk, You And I Both Know I Am Not In The Mood For Pleasantries. 

KANAYA: Where Is She. 

DIRK: What, can’t a guy try to catch up with his sister’s wife when she drops by? 

DIRK: I mean, considering you just shredded my door, I’d say I’m acting relatively calm at the moment. 

DIRK: Come on, make yourself at home. 

DIRK: I can forgive the mess, it isn’t a large fix. 

DIRK: Look, 

I say gesturing to the blue blob (you) currently splayed out on the floor, 

DIRK: John’s here too, don’t you want to say hello? 

For reasons she is unsure of, Kanaya listens to my suggestion and looks over at you, although she doesn’t notice the mangled state you're in because Kanaya's already pissed off and I don’t really want it getting any worse, so let’s just say that she thinks you were taking a nap on the floor before she got here. And also poured ketchup all over yourself. And dove headfirst into a tornado, just for funsies. Yeah, that works. 

KANAYA: Ah, Hello John. 

KANAYA: Would You Happen To Know Where My Wife Is, And Why Dirk Is Hiding Her From Me? 

JOHN: well i haven’t actually been here too long 

JOHN: and for most of that time i’ve been bleeding out here on the floor 

JOHN: so i haven’t really had a chance to see her 

JOHN: i mean, it’s nice to see you, but Dirk has been-- 

Oh no, it looks like that poison wormed its way even further into your bloodstream, and it’s getting so bad that now you curl in on yourself as much as you can, coughing and hacking up copious amounts of blood. Kanaya, for her part, is oblivious to your newfound fit of pain because I say she is. But she does notice the injuries that you pointed out to her. And you see, this is why I have to poison and kill you, John, because you just don’t shut the fuck up when you need to. This is why we can’t have nice things. 

Kanaya starts speaking to you again, but you can’t really hear her. You’re much too busy trying not to pass out. 

KANAYA: Well John, For Lack Of Better Phrasing, You Look Atrocious. 

KANAYA: What Happened? Are You Ok? 

KANAYA: Wait, Don’t Answer That. 

KANAYA: We Don’t Have The Time. 

KANAYA: I Cannot Tell What The Exact Problem Is, But I Do Know That It Is Monumental, And That It Is Something Very Close. 

KANAYA: But I Need You To Know That I Am Going To Solve The Problem, And I Am Going To Get You And Rose Out Of Here, I Promise. 

KANAYA: And 

KANAYA: I’m Glad To See You, Too. 

She gives you the warmest smile she can manage in her current panic, with the same hint of pity in her eyes that her wife had when she sent you off on your mission, when this all started. She still does not see that you are writhing around on the floor, that you cannot even see her reassuring smile or feel the comfort of her words. Convinced she’s done all she can for you at the moment, she quickly turns around and starts scanning the room for Rose. 

DIRK: Have you really decided you’re not even going to attempt to talk to me, Kanaya? 

DIRK: After all, I might be able to help you. 

She looks at me and starts to open her mouth mechanically. Maybe she can talk this through peacefully, she begins to think. But then she shakes her head and wheels around to continue her search. Finding her wife is her first priority, and she firmly concludes that I am only a distraction, no, a threat. Goddamn, she is stubborn. 

She stumbles into the rather small, meek kitchenette I have going for myself and crouches down to start looking in the cupboards, my mini fridge, and, to my disbelief, the inside of the fucking oven. 

DIRK: Kanaya please, I am not the witch from Hansel and Gretel. 

DIRK: I'm a terrible cook. I'd botch that recipe so bad it's not worth trying. 

Now we both know I’m not really one for a laugh, and that didn't even really qualify as a joke. Not even worth a smirk. But, villains laugh at their own jokes all the time. It's rule number one, right above being evil. So, I silently chuckle at that one. Kanaya, meanwhile, does not. 

DIRK: Why don’t you just give up? 

DIRK: Wait for Rose to get home? 

DIRK: I’m sure she just lost track of time, she might even be back at your house, wondering where you went. 

DIRK: She might be missing you. 

DIRK: Needing you. 

That causes her to freeze, kneeling on the linoleum tile and wishing she could just sink into it, and that she would find Rose there too, and that everything would be ok. Her eyes dart to the exit to my apartment, and then back to me. Her hand still clutches the handle to the oven, still open as if maybe Rose was stowed away in the back corner, only hiding, not lost to her. Her whole body is shaking as she physically fights the urge to get up and run home, to the mere possibility of finding her. Slowly, she starts to get to her feet, though she looks rather frustrated and confused about the ordeal. She starts to leave, but then, 

Fuccckiiiinnnnnggggg John 

You just had to bang your shin against one of the legs of my coffee table, huh? That right? Just had to go and do that and destroy my work for the umpteenth time today? Just couldn’t keep still with all the pain you were in? Oh wow, poor, poor John. How fucking sad. 

The whimper of pain you make has Kanaya suddenly remembering that you exist, and rushing to your side. Whoopee. So glad that not only is she not leaving, but she also focused her attention on the one person that seems capable of disrupting my narrative. John, this is developing from a temporary nuisance into an actual fucking problem that you’re making me solve, and I’m not really up for a game of all-knowing cat and poisoned mouse. 

DIRK: Kanaya, you should really leave no- 

I am rudely interrupted by another one of your raucous coughing fits. Kanaya reaches out to you in alarm and notices the drivlets of blood running down your chin and the spackles of red beginning to coat the rug. That isn’t coming out any time soon, John. That rug is expensive, you know. 

With a determined set to her face, Kanaya goes to roll you so that you’re laying flat on your back, trying to keep calm. She’s seen friends dying before. Hell, she’s been dying before. She’s seen firsthand what happens next, and she’s not going to let it happen. She would probably succeed if I weren’t around. 

Your coughing just gets worse and worse. But soon thereafter, it just stops altogether. You don’t have the energy to keep thrashing around anymore. You don’t have the energy for anything. You can hear your breath slowly growing into a shallow rasp, and then a wheeze. There must be something wrong with your eyelids, because they keep closing when you didn’t tell them to. 

Seeing that you’re moments away from dying, Kanaya allows her calm exterior to unravel. I see some jade from where she digs into her lip. Her eyes roam in one last desperate attempt, grasping at a saving grace that she knows she won’t find. She looks anyway. 

For a brief second, she looks at me, asking for help, because John is my friend too, isn’t he? I want to help him too, right? It is difficult to categorize the exact expression she’s wearing. I’d say it’s akin to a deer in headlights, except the deer is also pissed off. Pissed that she and her friend can’t get out of the road in time, pissed at the car, pissed at the guy driving who isn't swerving off the road, unaware that the driver is in fact running over the deer rather intentionally. 

The moment passes, the deer looking for a different way out of the road instead of relying on the asshole driving the car. In shades. At night. Which, fair. 

In the very back corner of the room, she spots a sofa tucked away just behind the stools for the island counter, which was oddly unnoticeable until now. Well, if it wasn’t noticeable it probably wasn’t important, so she looks away. 

And looks back. But looks away again. Like I said, unimportant. 

She clenches her jaw, frustrated at something she can’t put a name to. Her eyes slowly, agonizingly glance back in the general direction of the sofa. They flit away and focus on the opposite corner of the room almost immediately. She really doesn’t want to look in that corner. 

She does. 

No, she doesn’t. 

Yes, she does. 

Fuck you, no she doesn’t. 

Yes, Dirk, she does. 

What the fuck? Ok, that's it. I've had enough. Stalling the narrative already made you enough of a threat, but taking the story for yourself is where I draw the line. You stop breathing. You're dead, fuck you, quit messing up the timeline, you prick. 

... 

... 

I notice I'm breathing a bit heavily. Wow ok, have to chill out for a second. I steady my breath, exhaling slowly, and then try to focus again. John's gone now. But, looking at Kanaya, the damage has already been done. She's noticed John has stopped breathing, and she's absolutely devastated. She sits in silence for a brief moment, eyes wide and vulnerable. And then she just throws her head back and starts screaming, raw and guttural. The dim glow she constantly gives off amplifies greatly, pupils dilating in tandem as Kanaya loses her fucking mind. She wrenches her head down to look at you, struggling every fraction of an inch that she moves. She stops screaming for a moment, until her mouth starts twisting and her whole body starts shaking and her eyes well up with tears and she screams again, even louder this time. She doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. In fact, she kicks it up a notch. Still screaming, she rises to her feet, practically dives for the sofa, and tears away the swath of blankets nestled on one of the cushions in one swift motion. I can do nothing but stare on. It fucking sucks. 

Rose Lalonde, awoken from her sleep by the howling of her wife, looks around blearily. 

ROSE: Kanaya? What is… going… 

She stops at the sight of jade tears rolling freely down Kanaya’s face, followed by the tightest hug Rose has ever experienced. She feels Kanaya’s sobs as they wrack her whole body, hiccups and snot, relief and grief and fear, rolled neatly into one package. She missed Rose, so, so much. But Kanaya knows this isn’t over yet, so she collects herself to the best of her ability and places both hands on Rose’s shoulders. She talks quickly, her desperation seeping through every word. 

KANAYA: Rose, I Cannot Physically Express How Elated I Am To See That You Are Ok, But We Have To Leave, Now. 

KANAYA: No Time To Explain Too Much But John Is. 

KANAYA: He's. 

He's kind of dead. 

If he hadn’t meddled so goddamn much, maybe he would have lived just a bit longer, long enough for him to say goodbye, but he ruined a large part of my plan. This is going to take a lot of work to redo. But with John out of the picture, my narration should be running as smoothly as it was beforehand. I’ll give credit where it was due, that ability threw me for a loop. I suppose he lived up to his role as hero more than I thought he wou… 

It has come to my attention that Rose is staring at me. Not sure how to feel about that particular development. With the help of Kanaya, she has worked herself fully out of the cocoon of blankets and now stands in the center of the room. Seeing how alert she is compared to a few moments ago, I would wager that she probably saw John. The other thing that I notice is that, while subdued, she is angry as fuck. Her voice comes out low, barely contained. 

ROSE: Dirk. 

DIRK: Rose. 

ROSE: Can you, perhaps, explain to me the reason why John’s corpse is on your living room floor instead of with Terezi, as I foresaw? 

DIRK: Well, 

ROSE: In fact, I would also like to understand why you appear so nonchalant about the entire ordeal when this throws the correct timeline out the window? 

ROSE: Why you are standing in the opposite corner of the room, disengaged from the situation, so that I would only notice you if I was looking for you? 

DIRK: If you would 

ROSE: Actually, I think it would be beneficial to know why my memories are so hazy prior to when I fell asleep, as well. 

ROSE: And why was I talking as if I was handed a script, saying words that felt right but didn’t feel real? 

ROSE: Why did I fall asleep in the first place? 

DIRK: … 

ROSE: Most importantly, were you aware that I heard, or rather, understood your admittance to murdering John due to his interference with your manipulation of the timeline? 

So, this might be worse than I thought. 

ROSE: Oh? You think so, dear father? 

Somehow, Rose’s ultimate self is developing faster than I anticipated. Maybe it’s John’s last "fuck you" from beyond the grave. But I don’t have the chance to mull it over for long. 

Over the course of her interrogation, her voice steadily rose in magnitude. By the end she was almost shouting, however now she is barely choking out her words, unable to keep back the emotional turmoil brought on by the realization that I killed one of her best friends. Seeing his body in her mind’s eye was one thing, but having to witness his crumpled, bloody, broken form in person is another entirely. She can’t begin to handle it, or the fact that she let it happen, or that I am talking about this as if it were one of her wizard fics or a shitty TV show I watched recently instead of something that I am directly responsible for. She was angry, of course, fuming, but now she cannot stop herself from being completely consumed by it. Her vision swims in purple. 

The lights in the room grow brighter, subtly at first and then drastically, until I can’t see for shit, even with my shades on. All at once, though, the light bulbs crackle and shatter. Unfortunately, this means I still can’t see. 

Wait, a faint lights begin emanating from two points in the room. One being Kanaya with her daywalker bullshit, and the other being Rose herself, which spells even more disaster for me than before. 

I can see where all the darkness has retreated to now: It all condensed into Rose’s form, writhing and lashing out around her body. It seeps into her body, amplifying her sickly appearance even more, yet making her presence exponentially more powerful. The whites of her eyes flicker on and off rapidly, like a broken neon sign in the window of a liquor store. Looking in her direction causes an incomprehensible sense of nausea, a blanket feeling without an exact source. The feeling is similar to that of chucklevoodoos, at least from what I've heard of them. The entire ground rumbles from the sinister energy that Rose is emitting. Even though the ground cracks beneath her feet, her hair floats around her in a halo, gravity failing to control her. Grimdark. 

I need to contain this as soon as possible. Wait, shit, she can read the narrative now. Fuck. Uh. I need to help Rose as soon as I can because helping people is my number one priority always. 

Rose, this wouldn’t be necessary if you would allow me to explain everything to you. 

  
  
  
  


Ţ̷̡̧̡̛̝͇̹̺̜̣̙̤̥͍̩̱̹̲͐̿̈͋̓͆̋͌̂̒̒̂͊̈́́̊͊͌͒̋̃̆͑̉̋̍͛̽̌͑͑̋̈́̍̒̉̏͗̐̃͂͋̋̃̕͘͝͝͝h̷̢̝͚̥̞͍̙̜̭̞͙̪̜͚̖̞̣̰͉̞͕̪̝̞͚͕̖̲̙͇̪̿̊̀̓̊͆̓͒̔̌͊̃̓̊̓̀͗̃̆͛̕͠͝e̵̢̧̧̧͕̮͈̣͕̣̖̠͔̙̣̰͍̥͍̬̣̜͕̥̹̠͖̯̞͔̥̪͚̣̻̬̜̝͔̱͙͈͇̜̖͇̲̺͓͙͈͙̐͒̈́͛̔͂͊̄͂̑̉̓̂̑̆́̆͛̽͂̿̑̓̅̈̂́̔́̅͜͜ ̷̨̧̨̡̢̛̛͉̻̝̲͈̟̺͈̝̝̬̥̮̖̗̮̱͍̱̱̱̗̤͉̘̤̣̱̬̩͎̮̮̜̖̺̦͈̝̼̟̥͎̦̰̓̔͗̔̐̾̆͗͗͑̈́͌̽̈́̇̂͗̒̇̒̈́͂͐̐͛̑͒̾͆̍̒̅̔̎̆͊͋̽͘͘͜͜͝͝ͅç̶̢̨̡̮͕̪͖̫̮̻̜̳̺͍͉̤̮͕̭͉̮̟̬̖͇̰̼̼̤̝̘̹̺͙͇̬̯͖̝̻͖͚̖͇͓̭͎͔̪̣̎̐͋͌̒̊̿͐̉̈́̈́̒̍̑̽̈́͘͜͜͜ͅh̶̡̡̛̛̛̜̹̙͈͙̰̖͓̘͚̤͈̫̬͈̬̩͓̦̞̞̞̰̲̬͚̤͕̮̥͔̠͖͖̮͎̲̪̻͖̻̣̞̩̯͙̯̗̲͕̞̪̖͇̻͉̲̗̆̎̊̒̈̓̀͆͂̓͌͗̋̐̏̈́̊̀͑̅͗̽͒̋̾̌̌̆͗̉̄̚̚̚͝͝ͅą̴̧̢̦͙̼̭͎͇̮̝͕̻̣̺̥͕̼̝̮̼͓̱̣͉͚̠̰͋̃͑͊͂͂͑̄̄̇̅̄̏̾̌̋̂̑̆͋̐͛̓͋̈́͑̂͒̑͆͒̆̚͘͘̚͘͠͝n̵̡̡͙̤̯̮̣̫̯̰̣̳͔̟͎̙̥͍̱͈͓̥̦̥͍̭̬͈͖͍̮̼͖̻̤̟̟͓̥̗̗̹͔̮̤̪̮͚̘̗̯͇̿̔͌͛̾̒̂̊͂͗͂͑̚͘͜͜͝ͅç̶̻͖͕̩͈̺͚̬͓͈͓̎͑̃͌̿̾̽̈͜e̸̛̠̺͈͚̯̬̦͚̬̱̜͚͎͍̻͎̟̟̯̗̣̍̔̒̒̓̆̿̓̒̀̈̾͛̄͌̓̇̿̔̂͆͆̑́́͂͛̽̿̒͊̉̌̏̀̃͗͒̓͑̏̉̓͆̓̐̽̃̎̓͆͛͋͘̕͜͠͝͝ ̴̢̢̣̩̯̰̫͙͇̜͈̝́̈̇͗̐̉f̷̨̢̨͚̦͓̫̮̙̮̭̺̫̜̭̫̫̰̩̜͙̟͎͕̪̯͙̭͍̹̙̬͙̻̪͇̫̥̤̥͍̫̳͔̪̦̲̯̗̲̳͉̭̀̃͂̎̒̐̄͜ͅǫ̸̡̡̢̧̭̠̺̰̠̖̯̗̜̞̰̙͇̯̤̣̫̠̹͓̹̞̟̪͓͙̺͖͈̩͇̺̠̭͔͍̰̺̝̫̙̤̣̝̫̜͙̈́̽̍̔̕͘ͅr̵̫̦̗̥̱̬̪̻͔̔̓̈͝ ̵̢̨̨̧̨̨̡̯̳̟͈̦̮̱̮͚̪͚̻̰͙̼͉̘̭̜̺̺̰̃̄͌͌̄̑̇̾̅͛̅̈͑̽͗̇͊̌̇̆́̾͐͑̐̕̕͘̕̚͜ê̵̡̛͉̖͕̭̟̽͌̊̈́̿x̴͇̦̺͙̺̩̻̹̓́͌́̆̏͊͒͛͂͐̈́̓͒̅̅̿̎̓̊̆̍̈̒̎̃̾̀̔̑̍̒̐͌̆͆͌̅̎̇̀͋̿̓͋̂͑̌̾̋̅͋͆̕̕̕̕̕͠p̵͕̳̰̝̔l̴̢̧̨̢̖̙̣̟̳̗̼͓͓͓̞̯͓̯̼̤̮̦̹̻͇̹̗̞̭̜̱̟̫͇̰̤͋̌a̷̛̙̮̠̺͈̠͚̯͚̰̰͗̌̓̍̈́̿̔̒̄͊̄̆̄͗̅̈́̔̆͋͗̐͂̆̐̏̄̉́̒͆̂̀̔̆̂̉͂̈͗̿̾͒̌̾̎̾͆̈͌̌͑̋̌͜͜͠͝͝͝ņ̵̨̛̭̭͔̬̻̦͈̥̤̩͙͉͔͓̹̻̰̙̈́̓̊̉̒̏̓͋̉͝͝͝ͅą̴̛̠̭̣͎͇͈̻̬̙̺͍̦̰͉͎͖̖̜̯̥̰̻̬͍͍̥̝̼̻̝͈͚̱̱̥͎͔̝̗̟̟̫̗̞͉̤̲̟̅̉̾̎̐̑͐́̃̍̅͋́̅́̏̾̈́̍̉̂̚̚̚͠ͅẗ̷̨̛͙̗̠̜͕͕̼̙̬͎̻̖̪͙̟͉̗̜̲̞̙͕͚̱̠͉̱̣̥͐̈́̃̾̑̌́͑̈́̋̂̈́̆́̅͂͋͛́͒̏͛̏̍̈̐̓̀͑̓͒́̿͆͒̀̚̚̚̕͘̚͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͠͝ỉ̸̧̛̛̥͓̠͕̥̹̞̪̬̤̝͇͙̦̭̜̱͎̝̠̫̖̦̣̱̳͔̳̯̏͛̆͂̄̑̌̈́͐̾͊̽̊̌̽̀͊̐͊͋͂̏͛̍͗̊̃̈́͆̈́̏̌͌̒̑͑̏͒̓͒͆͘͜͜͠͠ǫ̴̨̧̨̢̨̛͎͓̖̠̺͉̤̻͓͇̥̻̠͔̝̗̪̰̟̞̱̫͈͉͙̱̩̳̩̼̺̠͖͓̹̞̙͙̯̫͚̆͗̉̒̈̕͠ͅͅṉ̸̢̨̢̨̡̨͓̺͕̝̲̝̼͍̭̬͖̥̞̮̰̱̬̺̮͇̪̯͎͉͚̘͕̬̠͉͛͆̄͒̌̔̓͊̾̊̔̅̅̄͗͌͘̚͘̕͝ ̷̧̢̛̛͙̯̪͎͇͔̮̦̖̰̦̩̥̯͙͖͇̜͕̰̮̗͔̯̦̆̂̿̾̔́͒͐̓̓̋̑͒̈́͆͒̊͑͊́͋̿̐́̐͑͂̉̊̑̈̌̇̌̈́͗̇̄̂̍̒̀̈́̃̓͑͘͘̚̚͜͠͝͝ͅͅh̸̛̳̤̮̙̞̪̲̭̼̻͖̫̝̻̖̦͉̯̞̒̋͛͂͂̈́̅̾̒̐̋̉̎̿̑͛̑͛̒̐̅͊̅̀́́̒̈͗̐̅̆̏̓̎́͂̑͐̃͛̕͘̕͘̚͘͠͝͠ȧ̵̢̛͚̯̻̹̺̗͙̻͔͎̦̻̥̜͕̫̪̟̋̊̀̀̒̿̀͊̌̊̋͛̆͗͆͗͐̾̉̽̎̈͛̓͂͛̌̿̈́̍̅͂͊̄̏̒͛̚͘͜͝͠͝͝͝s̴̭̳̙͇̊̃̾̍̂͐͆̋͐̾͐̋̅̑̽̋̂̓́̄́̍͝ ̸̳̫͙͂͆̾̅̍̾͑̈́͌̓͂̾͒͛̇̾̂̏̉̉̄̈́̂̏̄͑̂̌̃̓̒̍̈́̈̃̔̎̓̑̚͘̕̕͠͝͠͠͝͝͠p̵̢̢̡̨̡̪̪̫̬̬̰̠̱̙̼̯̹̻̜̘̥̘̟̘̭̹̞̱͉̙̺͙̤̙̻̬̩̖̦͖̮̣͔͕͚̼͔͖̜̊̍̋͜͝ͅͅͅa̴̡̧̪̭̪̞̲͎͓̣̬̭̻̤̱̰̩̫͙͔̼̝͌͒͐̎͛̓͑͑͛̍ṣ̷̛̛̦͚̙̮̜̥͍̝͈͍̘̅͋̍͑͒̃̒̌̅̽̍̀̈̑̄̉̽̈́̃͋̈̕̚͜ͅş̸̨̛̛̝̤̰̠̠̥͋̃̅͗͗̆̾̄̋͊̑͛̐͆̈́̇͒͑̍͛̐̅͗͐̅͆̕͜͝͠ͅȩ̴̨̡̡̡̦͔̤̘̼͎͎̬͍̝̫̤͍͙̺̠̠̺̜͖̜̺͈̻̻͕̲̻̠͔̪̻̬͙̳̟̯̭̈́̔̓͜͝ḏ̷̡̨̢̢͎̭̫̼̹̤̙̩̳͖̟̟̠͍̭̥̋͛͐̇ ̴͉͚̗͔̆̃̔̎͊̌̔̽̆̊̉̉̆̎͗͊͛͛͒́̆̋̄͊̉̕̕͘͘̕͝D̵̨̢̨̢̫̤͚̝̹͍͈̹̠̠̻̦͇̣̱̱̮̰͔̼͙̖̲̘̤͇͈̺̖̠̈́͗͜͝i̷͈̘̖̯͖͚̦̪̪̊̅̇̅̑̈́͌̒̈́̅̈́͌̕͝͠ͅr̸̢̢̥̪̞̫̗͓̮̺͈͍͔͉̦̠̒͊͊̔̎͊͌̚ͅk̶͖͕̪̣͕̳͉̤̟͙̲͚̣͍͉̼̜͌̀.̸̗̖̹͉̟̩̞̓̋̐̈̆̉͗̉̃͂̌̃̇͛̌͗̿̋̇̌͂̍̆͘͘̚͝͝ ̷̢̨̡̧̨̢̢̥̟͍̺͖̘̪̗͔̗͖͖̹͚͔̖̥̻̰̰͎̫͕͚̭͉̬̤̹̻̙͓̲̦͔̼̣͓͈͖͍̬̘̜̮̻͕̲̍͛̂̿͒̈́͛̉̈̈̍̄̃̔̑̆͋́́͌̈͐̊̓̒͗̏̈́̐̔͗̓̃̽͌͗̌̔̈́̽͆͐̒̓͐̌̏̌́̍̅̀͘͘͜͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝F̴̡̞͕̣̞̫͈͔̠̮͉͍͈̥̘̙̩̹̆̐͋̋̀͐͋̐͂̓̄̑́̇͛̈́̆͂͐̅̃͊̂̓̀̀͊̋̊̓̏̿̏̿̀̈́̔̊͘̕̕̕͜͜͜͝ͅå̵̛͈͇̬͓̘̪̳͙̯̫̣͈̺̪̩̗͔̥̼͓͈̺̖͎̙̖̬͎̹̭͈͇̺͕̦̮̲͕͇̹̌̃͒̀̒̈̉̈́̑͑̃̅̿̾̍́̈́̏̋̚̚͜͜͠͠͠ͅͅͅc̶̛̗͉̻̙̗̩͚̩̳̭̬͈̠̬̥͙̰̥̮̩̣̝̟͕̦̘̒͆̉̋̇̽̀̔͊͋̌̑̿̈́̔͒͊͗̄̈́͛̚͝ȩ̴̢̡̨̧̧̤̠͙̭̣̺̥̲̜̼̠̻̠̬̞̦͖̼̦͉̰͍̥͙̩̬̹̦͔̹̪̳̗̖̹̫̹͔̮̖̬̱̟̩͇̅̎̈́̉͐̋̾͆͑͌̋̑̎̍͂̅͌̂̓́͋̍̓͘̚̚͜͝͝ͅ ̴͚͖͚̣̼̞̫͍̞̤̝̫̤͓̩̩̠̘̼͚̣̈́̓͑̀̓̉͐̄̐͆̏̆͝ţ̶̢̨̨̨̧̥͍̳͍̹̼̥̰͈̘̰͇̠̯̞̭͖̗̖̞̥̘̟̘̮̳̙̠̝̭̈́̽̉͒̊͊̐̈́̐͑͌̐͐̃̓̇̃̿̓̔̿̅̈́̌̋̈́͐̇͛̉̍͌̍̑͐́̈̃͗͌͜͜͠͠ͅh̸̨̢̨̧̛̛̜̥̻̖̞̣̬̜͚̦͓͖̟̣̹̩̪͍̜̗͍̜͉̯̬̱̙̞̜̩̗̭̫̟̠̺͓̱̹̙̲͖͉̙͉̮͍̫͇̦̜͓̯̥̀̑̅͆̇́̂́̔̈̌͑̓͗̓̎̔̋̃̾͗̈́̏̊̿́͆͗̈̃́͒̍͆̑̍̽̊̏̽̊̇͐̔̏̈̓͘̕͘̕̚̕͜͝͝͝͝ͅͅë̵̛̻̲̘͍͕͈́̀̈͆̿̍̌͂̏͒̆̇̐̃͒̈́̔̇̊͗̀͒̾̎̐̅̀̀́̇̆̓̌̐͂̿͂̚̚̚̕͝͝͠͠͝ ̶̢̢̨̨̨̢̨̠͍͉̫͓̻̩͎̠͈̟̜͈̮̳͉̹̗̻̗̭̼̤̙̟̤͖̹̤̜͎̫̮̺̱͍͔̜͔̥̻̥͎̰̬̜͙̭̲͔̟̎̂̓̒̃̉̀̒̎̋̃͂̍͐͘͘͜͠͝ͅc̸̨̧̨̨̢̢̧̡̡̛̛̻͕̱̞̺̮̞̻͎̞̲͉̖̖̥̺̳̻̥͓̳̺̼͓͔̤̝̥̮̞͚̖̬̟͕̝͈̬̺̹͍̱̞̩̗̗̣̯̰̤͊̋́̇͗͌̿́̄͑͑̐̈́̃͆̃̄͒́͋͑͆̄̓̂̂̀̿͆͘̚̕̕ͅǫ̸̡̛̻̭̞̦̥̞͆͒͋̓͊̊̐͑́̍̒̈́̒̾̿͋͐̇͐̓͛̄̉̉̊̋̽̓̕͝͝͝͝͝͝͝n̸̤̮̔͊͐̒̓̿̎̅̏̐̋͐̿̑͂́̉͊̈̊̆͂̊̂̈́͑̈̑̈̑̀̃͊̈́͊͋̿̇̌͒̉͛̊̂̚͘̚̕͘͝ş̵̨̨̡̛̥̤͖̱̫̮̖̗̓̌̾͗͛̈́̍͋̊͛̈̓͒̿̌͊̆̋̑͐̍̐̄̈̓͒̾͗̋͘̚̕̚̕̚͝͝͝͝ͅē̸̡̡̢̨̛̳̻̬̞̱̠̠͖̘̘̪͕̹͓͈̥̬̟̼͇͍̺̮̬̯̞̳̝͍̜̺̎̃̀̎̔͋̅̃͒̔́̂̊̐̎͐̎̎͂̀̾͋̃̓̾̐͒̓͊͑͊̋̿́̇͐͘͘͜͝͠͝ͅq̴̤͍̝̺̝͉͉̟̜̱͈̫͕̤̜͇̗̬̹̝͉̞̩͇̀̈́̆̄̓̃͛̊̀͗͌̿̈́̐̓̎̔̇̂̅̾̓̈́̚̚͠͝͠ͅṳ̵̡̡̠͉̩̬͈̖̦̗̭̮̰̮̩͚̝̬̪̹̟̞̪͚͔̘͖̲̖͓̦̙̮̟͎̫̙͌͑̈̾̏̒̒̄͌̐͋̍͌͛͂͒̐̌̚͝é̶̡̢̼̜͍͎̖͎̘̬̬̳̘͚̣̜͎͙͖̝̺̠̯̘̝̝̩͙̼̯̜͉̭̝̘̹̥̫̫͉͈͎̭̬̞̲͒̓͋̽͑͌͜ͅͅn̵̡̢̡̨̛͙͕͉̩̠͖̩̻̠͖͙̬̻͍̥̰̳͉͎̟͇̠̣̦̪͈̯̦̯͖̤̲̠̙͉͕̥͇̣̟̬̗͚͔̳̣͈̳͚̣͓͋̀́͆̈́̈́͊͋͊̆͛̈̈͒̒̽̊̌͛̈́̍̐̃̐͊̎̾͗͊̃̑͗̔͗̅͌̈́͐͋͑̉̃͂̄̔̅̀̊̎̏͋͂̈͑̚̕̚̕̕͜͝͠c̵̢̢̛̱̲̺̮͓̤̪̙̣̥̼̟̰͈͓̖̺̰͌͒̎͑̃̑̓̅̆͑̈́͗̈͊̆͌̏̓̚͝͠͝ͅe̶̢̡̨̢̡̡̨͉̣̻̰̼̙̖̤̭̲̳͖̣̭͇̱̣͙̫͉̯̺̳͔͍̱̰͔̹͕̬̫̜̣̥̲͈̳̲̰̫̟̞͔͇̟̪̼̔̾̌́̀͂͌̈́̇͗̊̂̈́͜ͅş̶̨̡̧̦̻̪̱̯̘̞̬̪̦̹̪͔̥̙̻͖̼̩͖̰̘̤̱͚̭̮͎̗̦̳̼̺̙͎͉͒̋̆̂̾̂̌̅̋̌͊̾͌̉̊͆͗̋͊̎͑̐͆̈́̽̽͒̈́̇̏̔̋̿̈́̆̈́̂̋̑̇̈́̐́͊̚̕̚͘̚̚͘͠͝͝ͅ ̷̨̙̥͈̩̙̝̱̺͙̬͎̬̪̣͇̭̹͖̊̎̓̎̂̉ͅợ̸̛̛̹̹̞͎̦͇͙̗̰̞̖͕͇̺͓̺͎̭̥̬̪̯͎͖̦̞̹͕̞̘̠̻̬̳̖̣̫͕̬͓͇̬̙̥̣̜̺͙̠͙̩̟̖͊͑̎̄̈́̿̐̽͐̂̅̊́̈́͑̀͑̅̋̋͊̎̐́̔͘͜͠ͅf̸̧̨̧̛̖̲̱͕̻̺͕̤̟̼͇̺̦͚̤͕͈̗̺̩͓͙̱̱̺͉̪̜̺̜̙̝̞͕̦͚͕̞͔̲̣̑̀̍͛̍͋̈̑̇̽̿̈́͂̌̍͛͆̅̕ ̶̨̛̛̘̣̮̟̟̲̣͎̼̦̲̹̬͈̰̝͕͚͖͓̻̠̼̗̜̜̜͖̜̦̻͎͉̠͈̲̈́͛̐̓͊̑̈́̇̈̒̄̋͛̀̈̂̿̆̇̈́͌̏̇̋̔̑̍̃̆͛͊͐̌͒̃̓̔́̇͘͝͝͠͝y̵̢̧̨̨̢̡̧̧̛̹̩̮̯͔̳̲̪̰̭̲̣͖̠̰̠͇̗̝̬̭̘̣̩͎̳͈̮̤͙͖͈̭͓̣̣͎̯̜͎͎̞̭͖̖̘͈̼̬͉͈͋͗̀̅̀̌̎̃́̽̆̍̈́͂̂̑͗̊͂̈́͊̎̊̒̇̓̓̓͑̐̕͘̚͜͝͝͝͝͝͠͝ͅͅǫ̵̢̨̛̛̛̠͎̮̳̳̪̞̳̻̟̞̠̭͚̺͚̻́͛̀͂̅̅̿͆̾̊̿̓̄̈̑͌͛̾͌͋͋͜͜͝͝ṳ̴̧̢̙̰̩͔̬̗͕͔̱̪͈̰̣̤̺̰͚̣̰̙̩̰̝̞̰̘͈̘̺͖̗̻͊͋̑̕͠͠r̸̛̤̟̼͙͎̍̐͊̉͐̾̏͌̈́̽̐͆̀̐̂̈́̑̚͠͠͠ ̷̨̧̛̯͉͇̝̩̥͕͓̱̗̗̟͚̭̿̂̑̓͌̽͑̾̂͌͛̀̎̄̆̃̌̉͌͗͋͘͜͠ͅf̷̧͚͍̪̤̠̪̬͕͖̞̪̩̯͔̣̼̤̭͖̟̲̠̠̰̭̓̊̄͌̂̽̎̿̄̈́́͒̊̀͒̽̍̄͜͜ͅơ̵͎͎̜̲̩̩̥̲̹͇̯̫̼̋͗̌̿̔̒̂̃̐̊͐̐̂̈͛̃͊͑̐̄̅̋͐̃͐͛͗̂́̍̀̃̅̽̓̆̕̚͝ͅͅỏ̶̢̧̺̤̳͈̣͍͎̺͓̱͓̱͚̰̰͖̝̥̺̺̖̫̥̖̭̪̰̠̳̮͉̤̲̞̻͔̞̫͍̫̳̦̑͐̋̈̊̀̎͑͌̎͆̽͂̾̓́̂͛͗͊́̈́̊̉͘͜͜͜͝͠͝ͅl̸̡̧̢̨̛̛̲̩̘͈̮̠͔͖̯̤̪̬̼̘͔͔̘̥͔͕̤̣̗͓͇̬̟̙͎̮̻̬̗̪̝͕̞̤̫̮̮̼̖̅̍͑̂̊̅̊̊̈́̾̋̇̋͐̅̊͒̉̇̀̔̈̋̌̓̊̉̉̽͘͘͘͘͝ͅĩ̷͓͌̋͋͑̉̽̇̾̎͑̈́̃̏͌̒̽̂͒̅̈͋̏̾̓͑͘͝͝s̵̡̧̨̢̡̢̛̺̖̬̞̖̼̰̖̠̺̰̜̰͓̼͉͚̻̗̩̩̟̱̳̟̹͙̖͖͉̳̪͚̤͈̩̖̖͖͇̣̑͌̂͂͌̆̂̄̈́̀̈̋̍̽͛̾͗̔̉̾̾̓͛͋̿̌͑͋̎̇̈́̇͑̑̌̈͒̑͘̕̕̕̚̕͜͝͝͝͠͝ͅḥ̵̢̛̛͇̻̥͎̻͖̣͕̻̟̤͙̦̣̺̱̱̦͎͍̹̗̣̤̀̌̉̍́̓̇́͆̃̀̌̾̓͛̈́̉͛̔͛͒̉̈́͐̃̊͊̆̈́͒͘͘͜͜͝ͅͅņ̴̧̛̯̖̦̗̭͓̮̯̞̦̜͉̜̳̩̝̠̠͖͇̬͕̩͕͓̝͚̠͎̠̬͙̹̭͚́̐̉̓̀̄͗̓̊͑̒̂̓͗̆̊͒̒͂̈̋̇͆̔̏̉̑̈́̊̿̆̆͒̅̈́͛̎͂̍̎͌̉̉̇̐̎̾̕͜͜͠͝͝͠͠ͅȅ̴̡͈̫̜̜̖̯̜͖̤͚̜̘̗͓̝̥̲̣̣͕͈̻͔̲̙̹s̵̨̧̢̢̛̤͓̤͙͔̫̼̥̹͓̲̪̘͈̬̜̰̪͖̣͔̜͔̰̖̱̩̖̲̺͕̞̞̊͛̓́͋̈̆̍̓͆̽̉̈́̄͆̄̋͛̈̂̆̌̅̿̈́̄͐̔̋͑̃͗̿̋̈͂̄̓͌̈͐́̓̾̽̈́̈́̈́̎̎̉͘̕̚̕̚͠͠͝ͅͅs̶̨̙̫̦̺̗͕̲͍̬̓̎̓̊̽͜͝ ̸̡̨̢̨̢̨͖͓̗̤̩̜̻̻͔̫̫̜͓̫̟͙͓̙͈̯͍͓̟̲̱̰̲̩̣̣̹̯̯̭̘̹͙̺̜̘̔̓̈́͌̀̑̊̅̀̈́̈́̀͑̽̎͑̈́̃̀̓́̈́͘̚͜͜͝͝ͅͅͅą̵̧̙̙͙̼͓̺̖̫̭̤̣̻͕̹̞͓̰̙̟͔̫̮̱͉͙̞̹̥͚͉͉͓͚̪̺̘͇̔̽͒̃͌̐̌͘͝ͅͅṇ̸̛͚͙̤̼̝͙̻̟̼͙̲͖͙̰̮̆͒͑͊̇̀͂̌͗̐̍̚ḑ̵̧̡̧̢̛̛̮͚̻͈͉͖͈̮̘̖̭̜̟̤͍̞͍͔̯̩̖͉̦̟̞̰̪͍͖̗͕̲͔̖̪̖͕̣̱͎́̈́̐̀͊̆͐̃̍̐̈̈̿̒̀̎̋̆̃̾̏̐̒̏̑̑͗̀̌̄̕̕͘͜͜͜ͅͅ ̴̧̧̡̨̛̺̗̦̤͇͉̮̤̜͕͉̠̣͎̞̖̗̂͒́͊͌̓̋͆͑̈́̉̊̎̀̑͑͗̆͐͛̉̽̆̌͛̎̉̇̿̂̓̄̆̔̿̆̑̚̕̚͝͝͝͝b̵̧̡̢̛̛̛̭͎̯̙͚̬̼͇͍̗͕̰̦͈̲͕̗̼̲̝̙͖͕̰̱̱͙͇̜̺̝̣̩̼̺͇̠̤̞̲͉̬̰̲̹̼̼̘̠͓̺̥̺͈̞͍̃̾̾̎̈́͋̋̎͗̂͊̋̽͗͛̆͂͂̉͒̈́̋̌̉̾̃͆̋͗͋̀̄͛͊͗͑̈̈̿͂̑̅̈́̓̅͆̚͘͜͝͠͝͠͝ǫ̶̛̛̬̩̯̪͇͖̲̬͍̳͎̲̼̱̹̼̩̓̑̍͆̌̊͛̏̐̍͑̏̀͌̈́̎̄̾͛̋̈́̓̊̊̑̓̚͜ͅw̷̢̹͎͙̝̤̍̈́͆̄̏̀̽̈́͊̋̊̉̾͒͛͛͛̈́̈́̅͑̊͐̑̔̈́͂̅́̏̇̐͋̍̓͌͂̆͐͐͂̂̐͆́̚̚̚͠͝ͅ ̴̺̫͖̦̭̖͓̗̮͕̾͂͐̑͗̍̈̓͌̐̄̏̌̾̔̇̔͗̒͐͑͋͒̾̿̋̋̄̉̌̓̏̏̏̅̋̓̌͋́̇͛͐͛̿͐͐̅̋͌̈́̈́̕̕͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅb̶̡̢̛̛̯̩̰̘̰̭̬̰̜̜̪͉͍̦̯̣̤̥͖̲͓̦̰̜̰̥͕̹̪́̐̏͆̎͊͗̿͌̈́͆̐̋̎͊̋͐̒̊͗͂̽͌͑̋̈͑̔̅̔͊̇͛͌͌͛̋̒̑̃͌̓͒̒̏̂̋̽̈́̆͘̕͘͠͝͠͝ͅȩ̷̡̧̡̨͔̫̟͉̣͙̻̪͔̘͚̪̬̩̩̥̩̮͖̻͚̜̥͚̫̲̗͔̳̠̪̜̦̠̭̖̭̐̈́̿͜͜ͅf̴̢̧̛̛͓͇̝͓̮͚̣̼̭̖̮̜̤̝̜̯̻͔̗̫̠̝̝̖̰̮͕̦͎̠̤̮̟̝͎̭̭̹͚̥̖͖̳̘̺̑̀͂͆̇͊̔̏̋̈́͛̆̄̿̿̂̈́̀͛̆̔̓̎̈́͋͆̅͒̓̄͊̓̀͐͑̾̃̀͐̀͛̂̽̏̿͌̿̇͋̚͜͝͝ͅͅͅơ̶̡̛̪͈̰̥̰̖͕̦͎̮͎̣̹͍̜͚̞͇̱̳̫̫͈̱̙͔̦̺̘͈͍̥̥͔̙͐̿̽̀͂̈̈̿͋̐͌̿̔̋̉̃̄̐͑̌̌̾̅͂͊̎͑̃͐̉̃͂̓̒̋̏͐͘̕͝͝͠͝͠͠͠ͅͅr̵̢̛̛͕̗̪̝͚͓̗͈̪̭̪̪̜̪̞̗̖̝̥̻̦̮̽͊̒͋̍̏̔̽̈́̈́̔̈̈̔͂͌͑̉̒̐̑̉͆̓̉͒̈̕͘͝͝ę̸̟̬̥̤̯̘̞̯͇̣͔̼́̓̔̔͒̐͛̄̋̍͌͗͐͘͜͜͝͝ͅ ̶̛̛̛̫̱͔̠͉̱̤͖̠̝̳̑͊̆͂̿̆̆̉͑̏̋̾̒̽̔͆̑̆̍̊̓̊͋͐̾͆̈́̿̚̚͘͘͘̕͜͜͝m̴̢̨̢̧̪͔͔̬̭̗̜̦̭̺̞̤̳̩̦̺̻͙̮̜̻͇̳̳̥͔̮̘̅͂̍̄̈́͝ȩ̴̨̢̧̡̢̧̡̱̹͎̘̫̙̖̺͙̭͕̼̘̝̝̼̟̗̘̜̩̺̞̦̙͍̙͇̱̣̺̻͕̲̱̠̥̺̲̟̙̥͉̖̼̪̜̮͎̥̀̍̈̅̎̈́̇̆͐͑̔͜͜͝ͅ.̶̡̧̡̢̭͙̹̥̪̠̺̞̳̺̪̹̜̺̗̥͉͙̰̘̗̻͚̳̙̤͖̼̭̉͛̄̉̐̐̓̎̐̊̔̈́̍͗̈͠ 

  
  
  


Hm. That’s new. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I just wanted to say I'm so sorry for not updating in so long! Summer got a bit crazy for me and I suppose I just lost motivation to write for a while, especially once I realized how big of a project this will be, so thank you for being patient and bearing with me! With that out of the way, did you guys like the chapter? I can say that I loved writing Rose and Kanaya, hope it was just as much fun reading them! And I think the next chapter will probably (hopefully, pls Seek) be out faster than this one was lmao. In the meantime, you can come talk to me on tumblr @etherealumbrella or twitter @EthereallyUmbra!! I love talking about homestuck and a buncha other shit too! But yeah anyways catch yall later, hopefully not too much later adkjfajsdhf


End file.
